


five times simon felt abnormal, and one time that was okay

by zeejacks



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 5 Times, Ableism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Simon Snow, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hyper-Empathy, M/M, Penelope Bunce is a Good Friend, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Sensory Overload, Watford (Simon Snow), like a lot :[, the mage can suck my dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeejacks/pseuds/zeejacks
Summary: alternatively, “five times simon didn’t know what was wrong with him, and one time he realised there wasn’t anything wrong with him at all.” i basically projected my experiences as an autistic person onto him (ft. penny and baz are good people)





	five times simon felt abnormal, and one time that was okay

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is filled with like... autistic inside-jokes, i think  
> also my tumblr is @bazstastic!

**1.**

“Would you quit with that?” the woman said, exasperated. The other kids eyed Simon, who was getting yelled at yet again. He lowered his head, quickly shoving his hands down from where they had been positioned, bent oddly at his chest. Tearing up, he didn’t even bother with his typical rebuttals: he didn’t even notice his hands were there, he didn’t mean to walk with them all weird like that, what even was the harm of holding his hands differently? Simon stayed silent and kept his arms down, pretending he didn’t see the stares of the other kids, and tried his best to act _normal._

He always tried to act more _normal_ than he was-- it was largely subconscious at this point. He bit down on his anger. Why should he have to accomodate? Why was it so bothersome to other people for him to act like himself? As he sat in a chair on the edge of the room, he resisted the urge to rock back and forth, trying to soothe his anger in other ways. There were still some of the other children in the home glancing at him, whispering in their little groups as they did. Simon didn’t know if they were talking about him, or if it was only a coincidence. 

**2.**

It had been nearly thirty minutes since Simon had first started his attempts at the simple _**Up, Up, and Away**_ spell, and he had yet to cause any floating pencils. The Mage, scribbling away at whatever papers he kept on his desk, lifted his head with an annoyed expression. 

“It’s not going to _work_ if you keep repeating parts!” He said harshly. Simon looked at him, confused. They stared at each other, until the Mage sighed dramatically. 

“Are you really not noticing that?” 

Simon shook his head. The Mage stood and walked over to him, ripping Simon’s wand out of his hand. He gestured emphatically as he spoke. 

“Every _single_ time, you add on _‘up, up’_ at the end. It isn’t ‘ _Up, Up, and Away, Up, Up!_ ’ It’s _**Up, Up, and Away**_!” The books and papers on his desk lifted a few feet. A few seconds after his over-the-top correction, he let the items return to their place and turned back to Simon. The Mage handed the wand to him and took a step back, crossing his arms and watching expectantly. Simon swallowed nervously, now feeling even more insecure. 

“Up, up, and- and away!” He said unsteadily, feeling like he was holding back a dam now that he was aware and intentionally not repeating part of it. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. The Mage scoffed and moved to his desk. Simon followed him with his eyes and wondered if the Mage was actually as disappointed as he seemed, or if his own disappointment in himself was coloring his view. 

“That’ll be all for today, Simon,” his mentor told him quietly. 

As Simon began his walk back towards Mummers House, his eyes burned and his throat felt tight. He tried to ignore how his mouth still wanted him to say “ _Up, up_ ” over and over again, feeling hopeless. 

**3.**

There was an almost peaceful silence in their room. Baz studiously worked on his homework, facing the wall at his desk. Simon sat up on his bed, filling papers with notes from their classes earlier that day. Neither of them talked or argued with the other, simply coexisting. 

Every now and then, Baz noticed that Simon would make a small noise. He dismissed it as Simon only clearing his throat. But, as they kept coming, Baz realised it was closer to a hum or grunt. They usually went from higher pitched to lower pitched, in the span of a second or two. 

“Do you _need_ something, Snow?” He said, irritated after probably the fifth one in as many minutes. Simon only looked up, quizzically. Baz rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“Well, if you don’t, I’m going to have to ask you to shove a sock in it. Some people are trying to do school work.” 

Simon only appeared more lost. Baz had to crush down the “ _cute!_ ” that popped into his mind, and instead channelled it into anger. 

“Crowley, Snow, you really are dense. Control yourself. You keep making these _noises_.” 

Simon turned his head down, and Baz observed that he had also begun to rock back and forth slightly. He felt as confused as Simon looked. Simon, on the other hand, felt embarrassed. Of course, it was just like him to be doing something weird without even realising. He covered the side of his face that was towards Baz and rocked slightly. Which was weird-- Baz was still looking at him. He kept watching Simon, making him feel a little uncomfortable. 

“Are you… Are you okay?” Baz asked stiffly. Internally, he smacked himself. Usually he had a filter to keep himself from saying possibly kind things to Snow! It’s just… Simon looked so concerning like that, covering his face and rocking back and forth. And the noises that had proceeded this were odd too. Overall, it unsettled Baz. Simon uncovered his face, and seemed perfectly normal, aside from maybe a bit red and confused. Now it was Baz’s turn to feel embarrassed, after judging that there was no real cause for worry. 

“Nevermind,” he said quickly, turning back around and trying to return to his homework. He ignored Simon’s gaze at the back of his head. 

When Simon’s noises started up again about an hour later, he ignored those too. 

**4.**

Simon slammed the door to his room shut. Luckily, Baz wasn’t here-- football practice was going on for at least another hour. He threw his bag onto his bed and flopped down next to it. Hitting the mattress with a fist, he let out an angry yell. 

He and Agatha had just fought. They didn’t fight a lot. There wasn’t much reason to, considering they never really talked about anything serious (good or bad). Today, however, it was like she suddenly blew up. She had been offhandedly complaining about something, and Simon had, as usual, just listened. The second he responded-- something along the lines of “ _Why is that bad?_ ”-- she turned on him, distraught. 

“Why is that _bad_?” She had said. “Geez Simon, I don’t know, why do you think? Why do you never understand what I’m saying? Do you just not listen to me?” 

Simon was shocked. 

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m listening! It’s not my fault nothing you say makes sense!” 

“What do you mean, ‘ _I don’t make sense_ ’? Everything I say makes sense, you’re the only one who doesn’t get it!” 

“I don’t even… why are you mad?” Simon’s voice had lost some of it’s anger at that point, just sounding stressed, tired, and utterly confused. Agatha just looked at him, her face a mystery mixture of maybe’s. Maybe angry. Maybe sad. Maybe confused. Simon didn’t know. Eventually, she settled on a sigh, the argument losing traction. 

“Nevermind…” She dismissed. They quietly said their goodbyes and she left him alone. From there, he had made the walk back to his room, time giving him the opportunity to ruminate in his frustration. As he lay on his bed, replaying the scene in his mind, he only felt the anger and uncertainty double. How on Earth did anyone expect him to be able to understand things that _don’t make sense_? Was he just… stupid? It’s not like this was the first time that he felt completely lost in other peoples’ reactions. Everyone else seemed to get along fine, so why couldn’t he? 

Grabbing the nearest thing to his hand on the bed, he sat up and threw it as hard as he could against the wall. Simon watched with fury as it landed with a hard _thump_ and fluttered towards the ground. Once stationary, he could see that it was a small notepad that had fallen out of his bag when he tossed it beside him. He sat for a good few moments, just staring and processing the pages splayed out on the floor, a few ripping slightly at the ringed hinge. A sudden, entirely overwhelming guilt filled him in a way that could only be described as _suffocating_. Simon jumped up and rushed to the small item, kneeling on the floor and cradling it in his hands. In the back of his mind, he knew it was silly to feel so intensely regretful over a notepad, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Repeating “ _I’m sorry_ ,” over and over again, he sat back against the wall, and clutched the notepad to his chest. Sobbing slightly, his mind reminded him of the Agatha situation. Simon choked harder, wholly overloaded with shame and regret. 

After a few minutes, his mind proved to be unhelpful once more, shoving a new thought into his head and replenishing Simon with guilt. _Why do I feel worse over an object than I do over my girlfriend?_

**5.**

He and Penny sat beside each other in the mess hall, quietly eating. Or, Penny was eating, while Simon stared down at the hard wooden table. He couldn’t bring himself to move or look around or let anything in, let alone _eat_. 

The sounds of everyone around him, talking, laughing, eating, all poured into his ears without his consent. He flinched at every noise, but eventually they blurred together too much to be distinguishable. Simon thought he might’ve heard his name in all the mess, but he was too busy trying to deal with his senses to pay any attention. His heavy breathing added to the cacophony, only amplifying his distress. 

“Simon?” Penny asked again, concerned words falling on deaf ears. She reached out to touch one of the hands Simon was covering his ears with. The second she made contact, he flinched dramatically, a broken yell leaving him. Penny immediately withdrew her hand and looked on helplessly. She stared for a few moments and tried to decipher what was happening. 

“ _ **Do You Hear What I Hear?**_ ” She cast, focusing on not listening to anyone. As the spell worked, all sound faded out of focus and muted in their ears. Penny watched Simon, just waiting and hoping for the quieter room to help him. A few minutes passed, and he eventually looked up at her with a skewed, confused face. She smiled hesitantly but reassuringly at him. 

“Are you okay?” 

Simon shook his head. Penny was just glad he was responsive. She offered her hand, without touching him. 

“Want to leave?” 

He nodded curtly, ignoring her outstretched hand, and the two of them stood and walked towards the door. If there were any vampires, or anyone else, gazing at them, they didn’t pay any mind. 

As soon as the doors closed behind them, the loud chatter returned to the room, muffled through the heavy wood. Again, Penny offered her hand, but Simon didn’t take it. 

The walk back to Mummers House seemed to relax him. Rather than wired up, he just seemed exhausted. The breeze from the evening clouds was the only noise aside from their footsteps, and the setting sun cast a warm light over the beautiful buildings and tall grass. Far from the moat, the air tasted and smelled only like sweet plantlife and the approaching summer season. Penny could have stayed out and breathed it in for hours, but Simon clearly wanted the comfort and familiarity of his room (and bed). 

The second they entered the room, Simon trudged over to his bed and threw himself onto it. Penny carefully sat down next to him. She resisted the urge to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Feeling better?” He nodded. They were silent for a moment, and she decided it was time to ask him more. 

“Simon… what was that?” He only answered with a shrug. Penny raised an eyebrow, even though Simon was facing away from her. 

“Really? That’s never happened before?” It was like she had pressed a trigger, cause Simon turned partially towards her with an energy neither thought he had. 

“Yes, Penny, it’s happened before! That doesn’t mean I know _why_ it happens! It— it just— it just does!” He huffed and returned to facing the wall. Penny sat silently in thought for another moment. 

“Is it like… sensory overload?” She asked. Simon still seemed a bit irritated, like he wanted the conversation to stop, but he humored her. 

“Huh?” 

“Sensory overload. It’s like when… when all of your senses seem like they’re enhanced and it’s overwhelming.” 

Simon was silent again, but Penny wasn’t sure if he was considering what she was saying, or if he was tired. After a second, he shrugged, and it seemed like that was all she was going to get for the night. She said a quiet _goodnight, Simon_ as she opened the door to leave, and heard only a grunt in response. Confused and worried, she let the incident slide. She wasn’t sure how to, but all she wanted was to help Simon. 

**+1.**

“It’s okay, love! That’s okay!” Baz told him, holding Simon’s face in his hands. Simon shakily reached his own hand up to hold Baz’s, face scrunching up in emotion. His breath came out shakey, too. 

“Really?” Simon asked from somewhere deep in him, from a place of complete insecurity. 

“Yes, darling,” Baz huffed, “I’ll love you no matter what you are-- autistic or not, that doesn’t change anything. Getting a diagnosis would never change how amazing,” Baz took Simon’s non raised hand and pressed a kiss to it, “how _beautiful_ ,” a kiss to Simon’s nose, “how _perfect_ ,” a kiss to Simon’s tear-stained cheek, “and just how absolutely _lovely_ you are, to me. I will never stop loving you. Never.” 

A heartfelt whine escaped Simon’s throat, and he openly cried in the face of Baz’s love. Baz softly asked if he could hug Simon-- he of all people understood the need to ask before physical contact-- and wrapped his arms around Simon, resting a hand in his hair protectively. Simon sobbed into the crook of his neck and Baz didn’t care about the damp spot he left. 

“Shhh, shh,” Baz hushed, “don’t cry, love.” Baz felt rather than saw Simon shake his head. 

“N-no.. no, these are--this is happy!” Simon gasped out and lifted his head into Baz’s field of vision. Although it was marred with his blotchy complexion, he had a messy grin on his face. 

“That’s… good?” Baz questioned. Simon giggled, almost hysterically. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted, grabbing Baz tighter. “Thank you,” Simon added sincerely. Baz only smiled and kissed the top of his head. 

“Anything for you, my love, anything for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> can u tell i like italics?


End file.
